We, Who Are Born To Kill
by TobyTCH
Summary: The tribal Karg Darkfire has made a name for himself over the years as someone with a remarkable talent for murder. He is drawn into the war for New Vegas as the wild card, unpredictable and deadly. Rated M for many reasons including but not confined to adult themes,dark themes, disturbing themes, violence, profanity and the odd terrible joke. No likey, no ready.
1. Courier Profiles: Subject Six

**This chapter is just a quick history on my Courier. You don't need to read it but it gives you information on his history that will affect both his actions and those of the factions in the Mojave Wasteland. I start actually telling his story in the next chapter.**

* * *

**Courier Profiles: Subject Six, Karg Darkfire**

Date of birth: January 17, 2242, Southern Utah in proximity to Cedar City

Description: 39 year old Caucasian male, six foot eight inches, muscular, short white-blonde hair and beard, multitude of tattoos, scar on neck and another on his face below the right eye, more covering the rest of his body. Pale grey eyes, features regularly described as worn, but handsome.

Biography:

Karg Darkfire was born into a tribe named the Bloodrunners. Despite the slightly barbaric name, this particular tribe is on a higher level of civilisation than most of the tribes in their area, probably due to their ancestors coming out of Vault 78*. Although Darkfire left his tribe at an early age; estimated around fourteen or fifteen, his early education and training was reportedly excellent. When he left, he joined a caravan and then left it again once it reached New Reno in 2258.

Once there he killed several members of the Wright gang with his bare hands, garnering the attention of the young leader of the Bishop family, Mr. Bishop. For the next three years he lived in New Reno, and worked for the Bishop family, using his considerable combat and espionage skills to consolidate their position as New Reno's main power.

At the age of nineteen Darkfire left New Reno in the possession of a considerable amount of caps, weapons and a sedan model Corvega. I suspect that he then travelled back east to his tribe in Utah where he stayed for roughly a year before moving north. For the next three years he took up mercenary work, providing extreme advantages to those who hired him.

After these three years he once again travelled south, this time into Arizona. As he travelled into Arizona it was perhaps inevitable that he would meet the Legion, namely the Malpais Legate Joshua Graham. After he slaughtered the patrol sent to capture him he was hired by Graham and over the following five years worked for the Legion, but apparently exclusively taking jobs from Graham and refusing them from all others. His reasons are unkown.

In early 2270 Darkfire left Arizona a very rich man and travelled west, having had some form of disagreement with the Legion, leading to a brief and brutal conflict in which the Legion lost sixty men. Darkfire travelled west from Flagstaff, evading both Legion and the Desert Rangers until he reached Bullhead city. There he came into conflict with another "superpower", the New California Republic. An army led by erstwhile General Aaron Kimball, now president of the NCR had been sent to pacify "raider" tribes in the area to allow for NCR expansion. Darkfire disagreed with both the goal and the methods of the NCR and fought against them for two years as a ghost, unable to counter them in open combat. This is how he gained his alias 'The Ghost'. Eventually however, the tribes were largely pacified, with only a few left clinging to their independence. It was then that Darkfire attempted to assassinate Aaron Kimball, coming extremely close, even giving Kimball the facial scar that featured so prominently on his campaign posters. Darkfire was ultimately foiled by a group of veteran rangers, three of whom were ghouls who served in the US army before the war, the other two being ranger Hanlon, who would later become Chief Hanlon and Helen Richardson. Although two of the ghouls were killed and Hanlon was severely injured, Darkfire was stopped by the ranger Alexander Reed. Reed was hired by RobCo. security before the war, based on his exemplary combat record. To this day it is believed that Reed is the only person to have ever beaten Darkfire in close combat. Several reports detail their fight, many stating that anybody else in the NCR would have been killed had they fought 'The Ghost'. After the war, rumors started that Darkfire was 'The Ghost'. It is unkown who started these rumors, but they have become increasingly popular in the years since the war. Despite his defeat Darkfire escaped and having failed the tribes around Bullhead City he fled east. Reed and Richardson pursued him for several months but lost him near Malpais. Whilst continuing their search they came across an injured ranger in the Colorado River. This forced them to stop their search, the wounded ranger Sterling later revealing that it had been 'The Ghost' who rescued him from a Legion raiding party. Reed and Richardson did not pursue him further, even after ensuring the safety of ranger Sterling, and Darkfire disappeared into California.

From there he becomes harder to track, rumours placing him all over California, Nevada and Arizona. It is also suspected that he also went back to his tribe for a time, as well as going far to the east and again to the north. He appears again in New Vegas in December, 2278 shortly after the battle of Hoover Dam on his way to Shady Sands, this time with a companion and several dozen copies of The Wasteland Survival guide, a book that he co-authored with two other people, Moira Brown and Oliver O'Neill. The book quickly became a best seller amongst the citizens of the NCR, especially those travelling to and from New Vegas. Little is known of his companion, apart from that she is a five foot five inches tall, dark-haired Caucasian with brilliant blue eyes. Current location is Goodsprings. At some point both were involved in the disaster at the Divide along with another courier named Ulysses whom I have labelled as my primary choice for transportation of the Platinum Chip.

After his return to California Darkfire met a Colonel Reyes in the NCR military. Reyes is a highly effective NCR soldier with an impressive combat record. The Colonel also regularly expresses an anti-Kimball attitude, regularly clashing with General Lee Oliver, Colonel Cassandra Moore and other Kimball sycophants. Despite this his popularity with the troops, fellow officers, several politicians and the common people has protected him from any lash back. Darkfire worked as a civilian contractor protecting the NCR trade routes from raidera and hunting down bounties for another two years before leaving suddenly to Primm. I suspect that his disappearance had something to do with ranger Reed assigned to command the ranger unit working with Colonel Reyes. Darkfire is now working as a courier for the Mojave Express.

Synopsis: Subject is ideal as a secondary choice for the delivery of the platinum chip.

*Vault 78 was a vault populated almost exclusively by non-Americans apart from the Overseer, his security staff and their families. The Overseer's objective was to establish a pro-American dictatorship in the vault. Said dictatorship lasted for eight years until the non-Americans rose up and killed the Overseer and over half of his security staff. The rest of the American citizens were then treated as second class citizens (at best) due to their actions during the Overseer's reign. The vault was primarily populated by people of British* and German heritage. Since the tribe's exodus from the vault in 2127 they have created their own tribal identity based around combat prowess, mobility in the form of restored pre-war cars and bikes and a tight knit family system of living.

Darkfire's family originates from northern England and have kept the accent.


	2. Only in the Mojave

October 11 2281

I sat at the main poker table of the Vikki and Vance casino in Primm. Six others sat at the table with me. An elderly woman with curling grey hair and glasses wearing a pristine green pre-war dress sipped daintily from a glass of red wine. Beside her sat a ghoul in a battered black suit, the jacket draped over the back of his chair. He puffed on a large cigar, smoke lazily wafting out of the hole where his nose used to be. A Khan sat to his left, startling grey eyes, double Mohawks stained blue on the sides of her head, her leather vest hanging open creating a tantalizing partial view of her breasts. I didn't even bother to look; I was too experienced for such distraction techniques and she was far too young for me. The dealer was next, one of the Primm locals in her tired suit jacket and skirt. Despite the obvious wear on her clothes the attractive red-head's actions were fluid and professional enough to have put half the dealers in New Vegas to shame. This was a high stakes game, especially for Primm, so they had given us their best. At her other side sat a man who didn't really belong there: one of the recently ex-convicts from the NCRCF. He openly leered the dealer and the Khan, licking his lips. Several other convicts were getting loudly drunk at another table, groping any woman foolish enough to go near. The last person at the table was a mercenary in expensive combat armour. His group sat near the convicts, shooting increasingly murderous looks in their direction. The game was only really halfway through at this point. The Khan and I were doing well, holding most of the chips on the table, whilst the mercenary leader and the convict were almost bust. The merc just kept up his continuous scowl, but the convict was getting rowdier every time a hand passed, whether he lost or won. I just hoped he passed out. I couldn't be bothered to serve as casino security tonight.

The game went on; I won a hand, and took a fair amount of chips, adding to the hoard. The Khan, Melissa lost about half her chips to the elderly lady and the convict, the man whooping and giving a few suggestions as to how she could earn the money back. She just gave him the finger and told him she'd rather fuck a mole rat. He jumped up, alcohol making him stupid enough to believe that he could take a Khan on and win. The Khan went for her knife, jumping up as well. They looked for a moment like they would start fighting there on the table, but a voice stopped them.

"Stop." Everyone froze when I said this, shouts dying on people's lips, even as they rose from their seats to either stop the fight, or to join in. Even the convicts stopped, fists closing around weapons becoming limp. I had spoken with complete calm, my voice no louder than usual, but it easily reverberated around the room over the shouting. Despite the calm or perhaps because of it, an air of terrifying malice was clearly audible to everyone and they all, to a one sat back down. That air of impending doom is something that I have always been able to do, but never been able to explain. It might be something to do with the Deathclaw leather boots, trousers and waistcoat, with Yao Guai teeth in the place of buttons. Anyway, I let a moment go by before speaking again.

"After the game is finished, you can all go outside and kill each other to your hearts' content. Until then, we will continue playing. The next person to pull a weapon will lose the hand they pull it with." I smiled at the dealer who looked like she was about to run. "Could you deal please dear." I said this having lost the malice and turning on the charm. The change, as per the usual, snapped her and the rest of the casino out of fight or flight mode, and she once again became the unflustered professional.

The game continued, the noise rising again. The merc leader went out first, and stomped over to his table where his buddies laughed at him for losing two-thousand caps. A few hands later the elderly woman went broke and left, the ghoul following shortly after. That left me, Melissa and the con. A few hands went with nothing really happening, and then the final hand came along. We all went all in, my chips admittedly dwarfing both of the others. The con slammed his cards down triumphantly, almost falling off of his chair. His count came to three aces.

"Three of a kind! Read em' and weep bitches." He started to reach for the chips but was stopped by a laugh from Melissa who turned over her cards. Four kings. Inwardly I sighed, knowing that at least one person was going to leave life quite suddenly tonight.

"Read that, bitch!" The con gaped at the cards on the table, the dealer edging away from him. After a moment he recovered with all the grace of a Brahmin that had had its udders tied in a knot. He grabbed the knife at his side, and quicker than the Khan gave him credit for, leaped over the table. Melissa fell backwards, desperately drawing her own knife, but she never needed to. The con never even made it over the table. I was on my feet in a flash, faster than a man my size should have been able to move, my huge blue bowie knife already in hand. Grabbing the con I slammed him down onto the table, winding him and then I threw him onto his back, the hand holding the knife just over the edge of the table. I brought my blade down hard, cleanly severing the hand. It landed point first in the wooden floor, the man's fist still clenched around it. I do not make empty threats. As it fell, the con screamed, his friends shouting and jumping up, their fear forgotten in the rush of adrenaline. I tipped the con off of the table as he clutched at his stump screaming and turned to the others. Even as they clawed at their guns, I moved, cleanly vaulting the table, reaching the first one to un-holster his 9mm pistol, pushing back the slide, popping the round. In the same movement I also ejected the slide. Before it even hit the ground I wrenched the pistol out of his hand, smashing it into the face of the man to my left, driving my head forward, crushing the nose of the man in front of me. I span right, slashing the knife across the Broken Nose as he did, ending his scream with a gurgle, at the same time, smashing the butt of the 9mm so hard into another con's eye socket that it stuck there, dropping him like a stone. In a matter of seconds I had dropped four Powder Gangers, leaving two dead, one comatose and another wailing as his lifeblood pumped out onto the floor. Despite this the other two cons weren't deterred, one trying to take aim, the other charging forward swinging a tire iron. I ducked under the swing and gutted the man with my bowie knife. As the man stumbled past me, trying to hold on to his innards, I rose from my crouch and in one fluid movement threw the bowie knife at the last man standing. It sank deep into the man's throat and he dropped to the floor. The entire confrontation had taken thirty seconds of savagery and I hadn't even broken a sweat. The Powder Gangers were always useless buggers.

I stood, and looked at Melissa. She was lying where she fell, combat knife in hand. When she saw me looking at the knife, she dropped it hastily. Satisfied, I turned back and retrieved the bowie knife and cleaned it on a con's jacket, the knife almost reluctantly returning to its sheath, the odd blue glow of the blade highlighting its name, carved onto the handle: Blood-Nap. By now, the handless man was only twitching as his blood pooled around him, and the gutless one was trying to pull himself together. The man whom had been hit with the gun first was dead, his temple crushed under the force of the blow. Silence reigned in casino, people barely daring to breathe as I stepped over the twitching Powder Ganger. I got back to the table where the red haired dealer was standing as if rooted to the ground, her hands shaking, a spray of blood staining her shirt and jacket, a few drops sliding down her face. I turned over my cards.

"Royal Flush."

* * *

I cashed my chips in after tossing the dealer enough to come to one thousand caps for damages. She almost dropped them she was trembling so badly. The entire casino watching my every move, apart from the old cleaner Mr. Mumford who wearily dragged a bucket and mop with him as he moved to clean the mess. After I exited the casino into the cool night air I rolled a cigarette my special red tobacco. When I lit up the smoke was red as well. I started walking down the street, but stopped when someone called out from behind me.

"Hey! Wait up!" It was Melissa, the Khan from the casino. She ran up to me, her vest now buttoned and a rifle slung over her shoulder. In addition to the vest she had the customary Great Khan denim hot pants and black combat boots. I guessed that she was in her early twenties at latest, and turned to face her as she approached.

"Hi, I'm Melissa. I just wanted to say thanks for saving my arse back there. He would have gutted me if you hadn't stopped him." She offered her hand and I shook it, noting the calluses from fighting. She was definitely a Khan.

"Name's Karg Darkfire, and you're welcome. You in the Mojave Khan Chapter, or visiting from Utah?" She blinked when she heard my name, but recovered quickly.

"I'm from the Mojave, but my mum came from Utah. She wasn't a Khan though, she was a Bloodrunner like you. I only joined the Khans when she died."

"How do you know I'm a Bloodrunner", I asked calmly, taking a drag on my red cigarette and offering it to her. She took a drag herself and replied.

"No offense, but every Khan and Bloodrunner knows the name Karg Darkfire, and not always for the best of reasons. My mum told me stories about you that used to give me nightmares when I was little. She always used to say that you would come and get me if I wasn't good." I laughed at that.

"Ha! It's good to know that I'm still of some use to the tribe! What was your mum's name?"

"She was called Crystal Wind-Chime." I was surprised.

"Crystal? I remember Crystal, had a voice like an angel, beautiful as well, but could handle an axe just as well as she could sing." I smiled, remembering something that Crystal's daughter definitely didn't need to hear, something I had learned just over twenty years ago. Twenty years … Daughter. I looked at her again, noticing how young she looked and her familiar pale grey eyes.

"Melissa, how old are you?"

"Nineteen. Why?"

"Uhhhhh…"

* * *

The four door Corvega sedan flew down the broken road, breaking any and every pre-war speed limit as it did, as well as flattening a Gecko Hunter chasing a fleeing Radroach which proceeded to eat the Gecko's corpse, rubbing its feelers together in triumph. I was driving, easily weaving around any obstacles. This sort of speed was normal for me. I had changed into my travelling gear, pre-war elite riot gear, but I left the greatcoat lying on the backseat along with my pack, the survivalist rifle with STOP scratched into the butt, a riot shotgun and a grenade rifle. I had a tactical harness on top of the chest plate of the riot armour, and a large Colt 1911 in a stomach holster. Another pistol, a matte black compact 12.7mm strapped to my right thigh, a weathered 10mm strapped to my left, a 9mm Browning Hi-power resting in a shoulder holster, a .357 police pistol behind my right hip and a Baby Browning in an ankle holster. Knives were everywhere; Blood-Nap in a shoulder sheath, a combat knife with Chance carved into the handle in a stomach sheath, a pair razor sharp knives sheathed (carefully) behind my back, a bandolier of throwing knives and about a dozen other blades concealed about my person. Several different types of grenades were also attached to the harness.

Melissa sat in the passenger seat beside the walking armoury, her booted feet resting on the dashboard as she stared out of the window, a scowl on her face. It wasn't every day you met someone who could be your father. We drove in silence like this for a while, covering a distance that would usually take half a day to walk in a matter of minutes. Eventually, Melissa spoke up.

"So, … explain this to me again. Why do you think that you're my dad?" There was a moment of silence whilst we blasted along at incredible speed and then I spoke.

"When I arrived at New Reno I had my 9mm Hi-power, a hunting knife and a handful of caps. First day there I killed three of the Wright gang with my bare hands and got the attention of Mr. Bishop. He and I were both sixteen, but he was the leader of a powerful crime family and I was a soon to be dead drifter. He took me in and I worked for him for three years. Killed a lot of people, but mainly Salvatores, Wrights and Mordinos. Even slaughtered the first Van Graff group to arrive in Reno. This really helped John, it's the reason he's so powerful these days. Anyway, after three years I left and went back to Utah. I had a car, weapons, and money, everything I ever wanted when I was that young. Anyway I turned up and it was like the return of the prodigal son, everyone though I was dead and then suddenly there I was, very much and unforgivably alive." Melissa interrupted me there.

"Why unforgivably?" I shifted uncomfortably. I didn't tell this story to many people, and they usually weren't talkative.

"Doesn't matter. Anyway, most were happy to see me, others … were very happy to see me, your mother being one of them." I looked at her. She was glaring at me, her eyes almost burning holes straight through me. I turned back to the road.

"It was six and a half months before I left again, and by then, Crystal must have been pregnant, but I promise you that I didn't know." I said this whilst unflinchingly meeting her gaze. I needed her to believe me on this. She sat upright, and folded her arms.

"Why did you leave? Why did my mother leave? Why didn't you come back? Why did she say that Chomp Lewis was my dad? AND WHY THE BLOODY FUCK DID NOBODY TELL ME ABOUT THIS!" I raised his hand, and biting back her temper Melissa quieted. She had just seen me, a man who, she barely knew murder six men in forty seconds flat. She was still pretty scared of me.

"I don't know why your mother left, but she was probably trying to protect you by calling another man your father. It can be a rough world." Silence. Melissa glared at me again.

"You only answered two of my questions 'dad'."

"Look, my reasons for leaving are my own …" She interrupted me.

"No! Fuck you Darkfire. If what you're saying is true then I deserve to know dammit! If you can't even…"

"I LEFT BECAUSE I COULDN'T STAND THE WAY MY FAMILY LOOKED AT ME!" I roared, my normally quiet voice almost shattering the windows. It pretty much made the car vibrate. The shame of losing my temper, no matter how briefly, hit me immediately, especially when I saw the brief moment of fear on Melissa's face. When I spoke again it was very quietly.

"Melissa, back then I was in a really bad place. Did your mother ever tell you why I left in the first place?" She shook her head mutely. "Well, back when I was thirteen, I had a twin sister. Her childname was Becky. When she was nine, Doctor Weaver diagnosed her with something called severe schizophrenia. Usually she was fine, but sometimes she would have … episodes. It was my job to keep her safe and that's what I did, right up until three days before our fourteenth birthday. I went off with my mates on BMX bikes that the chief brought back for us. We had a good time. When we got back I went home. I couldn't find Becky, so I went looking for her. I didn't have to go far. She was inside the armoury. We kids had dug a path into the armoury. We took stuff out from time to time, you know, light stuff like pistols, SMG's, dynamite and so on. She was there. When I arrived, she blew off the armoury doors with dynamite, killing the guards on duty. She was delusional, didn't even hear me when I tried to talk her down, and kept screaming about monsters. She said that she was going to stop them. That was when she lit another boom stick. Nobody outside was close enough to stop her. She almost threw the stick at me, back into the armoury. A lot of people would have died with the sheer amount of ordinance we had in there. I had a pistol. I used it. The dynamite left us a pair of legs to bury. My family have hated me for it ever since. That's why I left." Melissa stayed silent for a while, and then turned back to me.

"Karg I'm so sorr…" BOOM! The car flipped forwards, and smashed onto its roof, sliding along the ground for fifty metres. Inside, the seatbelt saved our lives, but we were both tossed around like ragdolls. When the car stopped scraping along the ground we hung from our seats, our breathing the only sign of life. As I desperately tried to hold on to consciousness, I heard voices outside the car. The last thing I saw before slipping into darkness was a man in a black and white checked suit.

* * *

I slipped in and out of blackness when they dragged me out of the car. They didn't even bother with Melissa, leaving her where she hung in the shadows, my greatcoat having been flung forward preventing me from seeing her face. The next time I surfaced, I was being dragged up the road, and realised where I was, as I saw the lights from Goodsprings in the distance. I tried to struggle, but they just clubbed me back down. Before the last blow fell, I noticed two of my attackers doing something to my car. I also noticed that the man directly behind me was carrying my shovel. I was unconscious for a while this time, finally awakening to the sound of my own grave being dug with my own fucking shovel! They had probably realised that I was awake, so I didn't try to hide it. I sat up and realised that we were on top of the Goodsprings graveyard hill. As I did, I realised that most of my weapons were gone, in fact the only gun that I had left was the Baby Browning in my boot, which I managed to get into my palm without anyone seeing. Not bad for a man with a concussion and bound hands.I heard a Khan start, and make her way over to me, no doubt ready to bludgeon me again, but someone stopped her.

"Hey, hey baby, let the man stand, he's had enough of a beatin' already." I knew that voice. Benny! The head Chairman, owner of the Tops casino had blown up my car, had me beaten unconscious, and was having my grave dug. What. The. Fuck. This really didn't make any sense. I had never done anything against Benny, hell I had even done a job for him once! I stood, and faced him unsteadily. It was then I realised that Benny had colossally fucked up. He had hired Khans. The Khans liked me, mostly … fuckin' hopefully anyway, even if they had never met me I had done them several favours over the years. Also, they believed the rumours that I had been The Ghost who almost killed Kimball during the Bullhead War. As it was, they all looked pretty surprised when I started laughing. Catching my breath I looked at Benny, the fucking snake in his checked suit and wavy gelled hair. How the fuck was he so clean? This was the Mojave Desert damn it, dust gets everywhere.

"Benny you fucker, what the hell do you think you're doin'?" He smiled and, reaching inside his jacket, pulled out the Platinum Chip. Now things made partial sense. My current employer, Mr. Nash had approached me during the poker game and asked me to deliver the chip to New Vegas. It had been a rushed contract, and he apologised, muttering something about a deadbeat who had quit, but he money was good and I definitely had the time, so I said that I would go after the game was finished. After I met Melissa, this had become, after I meet Chomp Lewis in Sloan. Melissa! Damn, I need to get used to caring about someone other than myself. Benny waved the chip at me.

"Looks like you made your last delivery baby, but don't sweat it, it's for a good cause." He moved to replace the chip, and I knew that Maria would be the next thing to come out of that jacket. My hands snapped up, the Baby in my hands pointing right at Benny's right eye. He froze, the Khans doing the same. They weren't stupid. I looked at them, not recognising any of them. That was good, for them at least, I could probably forgive them for this. Not so long ago, I would have already started shooting, Khans or not. Lucky them.

"Did he tell you who I am", I asked the Khans, directing it at the dark-skinned one with the bandanna. They shook their heads. I gave them my best 'Vicious Killer' grin, which, if I do say so myself, looked terrifying, especially with the blood on my teeth and matting my beard.

"My name is Karg Darkfire. You may have heard of me." Sometimes it is wonderful to have a reputation. The Khans actually took a step back in fear, eyes widening as they realised the implications. Again, a few years ago I would have already been wiping their blood off of my hands.

"The woman in the car with me is a Khan by the way. Melissa. One of you might want to go and check if she's alright. I motioned to the Khan furthest to my right. She ran off immediately, disappearing into the night. I turned back to Benny, the Khans now firmly on my side. He had realised this as well, his hand still in his jacket. As I moved to speak, however, something dropped from behind him and the world disappeared in light and sound. The slimy little fuck had used a flashbang.

* * *

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that I was sitting upside down, held by the seatbelt. The second thing I noticed was that I felt like I'd got into a fight with an angry Deathclaw. Last thing I remembered was Karg going along the road like some boy racer when something exploded. As I pushed his bloody heavy coat away from my face, I heard a couple of people talkin'. I knew one of those voices.

"Jessup?" Jesus, I hated how weak my voice sounded, so I hacked up a bit of blood, and tried again.

"Jessup!" The voices stopped, and I saw a pair of boots come into what little light there was, and then Jessup's face appeared as he knelt down.

"Holy shit! Harley get over here, its Melissa!"

"Oh holy shit! Are you okay? Melissa!?" Harley rushed over, as he pulled out a knife and began sawing at the seat belt.

"Do I look okay you munters!? You blew me up you bag of dicks! Have you two got your heads on wonky? Get me out of here!" He finished cutting the belt off and she fell, whacking her knees against the roof of the car. Jessup rolled his eyes as I cussed him out again, and he and Harley helped me up. I looked around. Apart from some blood there was no sign of Karg.

"Where's the guy who was driving?" Harley answered

"We got hired to take him out; they've taken him up to the graveyard but he's still alive. Who is he?" I saw red and socked Harley right in the mouth. She landed on her arse, tears filling her eyes as she put a hand over her bleeding mouth. Harley was as tough as any Khan, having taken her beating like all the others, but she was quite a sensitive soul, and being the same age as me, we were mates. Any other time I would have felt real cut up, but right then I had bigger things on my mind. As Jessup held me back, trying to calm me down I screamed at her, drowning him out.

"HE'S MY DAD YOU STUPID BITCH!" I turned and ran towards the graveyard hill. Harley picked herself up and grabbed Jessup, and they ran after me. They caught up with me after a moment, whilst I was busy being sick onto a barrel cactus. I'd been hurt pretty bad in the crash, and there's only so much that adrenaline can do for a person. They pulled me along, Jessup cursing as I got bile on his boots. Soon, we reached the bottom of the hill, and ran into another Khan, Angel, Christ what a bloody stupid name. Anyway, I almost clobbered Angel as well, until she told me that Karg had everything in hand up on the hill, but I didn't slow down. Both Jessup and Harley were surprised when they heard the name Karg Darkfire, and almost stopped themselves, but loyalty won out over fear, and all three of them followed close behind me. We arrived just in time to see Benny drop a flashbang. As he did, he pulled out some fucking flashy pistol, but Karg was quicker, firing with the tiny pistol, hitting Benny three times in the chest, one just where his heart was. Benny, the fucking snake still managed to get two shots off, and both slammed into Karg's head, causing two sprays of blood jet out and paint the ground crimson. As Benny fell backwards over the steep eastern side of the hill, I saw his eyes fucking gleaming.

I am not proud of what I did next, which was screaming. I fell down next to him, still screaming, the others Khans trying to pull me off and away from him, whilst Jessup knelt down next to Karg and checked for a pulse.

"He's still alive." I didn't hear him, so he grabbed my face, and made me look at him. "Melissa! He is still alive! There's a doctor in Goodsprings." That time I heard him just fine. We had no bloody idea how we were going to get him there though. He was bloody huge. It was just then when a voice rang out.

"Do any of you fine folks need assistance?"

* * *

I threw the footlocker into the trunk of the car and slammed the lid down, the noise echoing through the village, not that there was anyone anywhere else but here, watching the drama unfold. My mother stood behind me in the doorway of my house, arms folded an expression of savage glee on her face as she watched her son leave again. She was flanked by two of my siblings, my younger brother and sister; Trueshot and Wind-Dancer. I turned back to them. There were still things I was taking with me in that house.

"Move." It was a command, but I didn't raise my voice. I have never needed to to make myself heard. They didn't move aside, but they moved forward, my mother spitting words in my direction.

"You can leave with what you have you despicable, greedy …" I grabbed her by the armour she wore and threw her to the side, making her soar through the air for several metres before crashing into a wall. Wind-Dancer struck out, quick as a snake, but I caught her kick before it even came close and toppled her to the ground. Trueshot was a couple of seconds behind, lashing out with his fist. I simply stepped into his reach and head butted him, knocking him out cold. Wind-Dancer tried to get up but I whacked her in the temple. She didn't try again.

I went back into the house, got my pack and guns, taking my time to attach them to the harness I wore over my Deathclaw leather armour. Once done I hefted the pack and a full duffle bag onto my shoulders and went out. My older sister tried to stop me but really I'm already gone. My father, who can never look me in the eye anymore, hugs me, says goodbye and leaves, never once looking at his wife crumpled against a wall. My sister hugs me, and when my back is turned my mother comes at me with a knife. The crowd stops her, and the chief shatters my mother's arm as easily as snapping a twig, despite the fact that the chief herself is barely five feet tall whereas my mother stands near six. There are several more goodbyes, the tribe is sad to see me go, but only my sister Silver tries to stop me from going. I love them all for that, but I just couldn't stay. A few minutes later I drove out of town and didn't come back for another thirteen years. As I left, I saw Crystal with her hand resting on her stomach. She never tried to stop me from going, and I never knew why until twenty years had gone by. Apparently she left with the next caravan to pass through the area.


End file.
